


Cupid's Demanding Back His Arrow

by liztrade



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, No hidden family, older Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liztrade/pseuds/liztrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot is changing in the world. While the Avengers have banded together, HYDRA is back, creating a dangerous atmosphere. Clint Barton and Kate Bishop find themselves caught in the middle of the fight, each struggling to overcome their own issues. Yet no matter how rough the outcome might look, a Hawkeye will always save the day.</p><p>Originally written for NaNoWriMo 2014 (though I didn't complete it in time). This is a combination of the MCU and Earth 616, so along with Kate, Peter Parker makes a few appearances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honduras in a Handbasket

“Take my hand, let's see where we wake up tomorrow

Best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand

I'll be damned, Cupid's demanding back his arrow

So let's get drunk on our tears…”

_Lost Stars, 2014_

  
  


 

_Okay._

_This looks bad._

Clint Barton winced as he sat up, surveying the situation around him. The ceiling was partially collapsed, and the entire wall in front of him was gone. Ashes were floating into the room from outdoors, and there was an acidic smell in the air. People were screaming and shouting. He took a quick look at himself and frowned. His right hand was still clutched around his bow, but his left hand… Well, his left hand had two bones slightly protruding from the skin.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Clint turned to his left. Natasha Romanoff had looked away to survey the damage. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“Not long, two, three minutes,” the former spy answered. “Sorry about your hand, I’ve been trying to make sure we have cover.”

“Understandable.” Clint stood up, feeling bruised. He inhaled and immediately coughed. It felt as though all of the air had been knocked out of him. It might as well have, considering he knew he was in a different part of the room only a few minutes ago. He coughed again, this timing noticing the blood. Well that can’t be good, he thought to himself. “What’s our status?”

“We’re fine. It’s a little intense, but we’re fine.” She cleared her hair from her face, drawing Clint’s attention to a gash across her cheek.

“Tasha, you’re bleeding.”

“And so are you. You injured badly?”

“A little bit.” Clint gestured to his broken hand.

“Govno,” Natasha swore before handing him a pistol. Not his preferred weapon, but it wasn’t like he was going to be shooting many arrows with his hand looking the way it was.

“So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to try to get a quick look of our surroundings, or what’s left of them anyway. I don’t think anyone was expecting that bomb.”

“Bombs,” Clint corrected. “You call Hill?”

“She’s sending in support, but they won’t be able to meet us at the rendez-vous for another couple of hours.”

“So it’s just you and me for now then.” Hawkeye smiled. “Nothing we can’t get out of.”

“I’ll be back soon. Just gather some information. Stay here, and don’t let get shot.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The spy quickly looked around her surroundings before jumping over the crumbled wall. Clint looked over it and saw what had become of their mission: an entire town nearly leveled to the ground. This was supposed to be a quick job: go in to Honduras, pretend to be a honeymooning couple, find the hard drive, and get out. Simple, easy, nothing that hadn’t been done before.

The bombs were unexpected. The first one had hit just as they were unpacking their gear in their hotel room. Both agents grabbed their weapons when the second hit an area Clint assumed was close to them. He remembered flying across the room before waking up minutes earlier.

The hard drive in question had the names and locations of SHIELD agents who were acting undercover in HYDRA facilities around the world. The information had fallen into the wrong hands after an agent was killed on a mission. Supposedly, there would be an auction for the hard drive in two days time amongst some of the worst people in the world: HYDRA, ISIS, the Maggia, as well as smaller known groups.

Clint looked at the burning trees and buildings. There were people in worse shape than he was in. A man limped by, blood streaming out of his leg. A woman beat out a fire with her bare feet. Cars were mangled, and he could see people trapped inside of them. Children were crying for their parents. Just minutes ago, Puerto Cortés was busy with life, cars honking, people talking, bells ringing. The town was active, but peaceful. The deal he and Natasha were supposed to stop wasn’t even supposed to take place in El Puerto. Instead, it was taking place in a village nearby. They were only in Puerto Cortés for their cover. Something was very wrong.

Clint thought about venturing outside, but after coughing up more blood, he stayed in the damaged room. He didn’t have super strength to help people. He couldn’t fly. He had excellent aim, but that could only help so much. Natasha was nearly in the same boat as he was, but her time in the Red Room included some genetic engineering. Her sense of perception was sharper, and she was faster in a fight than the average spy.

Natasha Romanoff was what Clint liked to call his work wife. They had a sort of chemistry that was unmatched by anyone else. When he spent time with her, everything felt right. It all began when he decided that no, he wasn’t going to kill this KGB agent, thank you very much. Somehow, he’d been able to talk Natasha into joining SHIELD. Granted that was after he knocked her out and brought her to the base. Fury wasn’t too happy with Clint’s decision at first. “This is on your head, Barton,” he’d said. “You take a chance on her, and she stays true to her roots, you’re gonna be the one to take her out for real this time.”

“You took a chance on me,” Clint reminded the commander.

“Different circumstances,” Fury grumbled.

Phil Coulson leaned into the table. “Agent Barton may have a point.” Clint looked up at the agent. If Coulson was siding with him, there was hope. “At the very least, the intel she has would be extremely helpful to us.”

“Will she want to join SHIELD though? She has quite the kill list, almost unrivaled really.”

“Hey, I didn’t join when I was so squeaky clean,” said Clint.

“Natasha Romanoff is dangerous.”

“More of a reason to keep her around, don’t ya think?”

Commander Fury was silent. When he did speak again, Clint couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, Barton, you’re in charge of this situation. We’re going to keep her at the Des Moines base- middle of nowhere, just in case something did break out- but it’s up to you to convince her to work for us. We’re going to take a chance on both you and her, you got it?”

Clint was still smiling. “Didn’t ABBA have a song about something like this?”

“Clint,” warned Maria.

“If you change your mind… I’m the first in line,” he sang as he left the table.

“Barton, get your ass out of here,” Fury said wearily.

“Honey, I’m still free.” Clint turned to the three agents. “Take a chance on me.”

The rest was SHIELD history. After months of prep, Natasha left her KGB roots behind her and joined the intelligence group. She provided her own knowledge that helped SHIELD work on their relations in Russia and Eastern Europe. She had been one of the KGB’s best agents, and she quickly became the same for SHIELD. Clint and Natasha became close over their several missions together, and he found himself wondering how he went through life without her. They were kindred spirits. Each had blood on their ledgers, as Natasha would say, and they helped each other create a clean slate. They had their fair share of rough patches, but no matter the circumstance, the day was saved. Today was different though. This mission was supposed to be smooth. It would be difficult retrieving the hard drive, but they were prepared. Or so they thought. Where the hell did these bombs come from?

The crying outside continued. Clint moved over to his suitcase and pulled out his first aid kit along with the bag of candy he’d brought along. He walked back to the blown out wall and called to a limping man across the street. His leg was bleeding. “Señor!”

The man turned to him. “¿Si?”

“Tengo un botiquín de primeros auxilios. Puedo ayudarle. ” _I have a first aid kit. I can help you._

The man slowly walked over to Clint, and the Avenger began to wrap the wound. It wasn’t anything terribly nasty, but it still looked like it was causing the man pain. “Gracias,” said the Honduran.

“De nada,” Clint replied. “¿Qué pasó?” _What happened?_

The man shook his head. “No se. Recuerdo haber visto tres planos, y luego las bombas lanzadas. Dos bombas. No sé por qué sucedió esto. El Puerto es una ciudad pacífica.” _I don’t know. I remember seeing three planes, and then the bombs dropped. Two bombs. I don't know why this happened. El Puerto is a peaceful town._

Clint nodded. “Lo sé.” I know. “¿Tiene hijos?” _Do you have kids?_

“Si,” the man said, “Dos niños.” _Two children._

Clint handed him some of the candy. “Ten cuidado.” _Be careful._

“Gracias, señor,” the man said. As he limped away, Clint hoped and prayed that the man’s children were safe.

Clint spent the next two hours helping those with burns and cuts. He comforted those who cried, and gave candy out to any children he saw. They all told him the same thing: the bombs were unexpected. The country had been at peace for the past few years, and no one could understand the violence. Natasha jumped back into their crumbling room shortly after Clint had exhausted their first aid kit. The bleeding on her cheek appeared to have slowed. “What’s the damage?” Clint asked, peering over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t followed. There was nothing but burning trees behind her.

“I think the question is more like ‘What isn’t damaged?’,” she answered. “Everything’s leveled.” Natasha paused. “Not much in the way of survivors.”

“Like how many?” His partner was silent. “Tasha?”

She looked up at him. “Outside of who’s left around here, I didn’t see anyone, Clint. Everything’s burning.”

Either someone meant for the two of them to survive, or it was sheer luck. Clint didn’t want to wait to find out. “We should go.”

The rendezvous point was on a beach a mile outside of Puerto Cortés. They came to the town in a taxi that was either miles away or dead, and Clint didn’t have the heart to try and jumpstart a car if it belonged to someone who needed it more. It looked like their only way out of the town was to walk, and normally they’d be fine with that. It was Clint’s chest that worried him; he was completely out of breath. Natasha eyed him warily. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he said, stepping aside a burning shrub. The bush was actually a good metaphor for how he was feeling then: on fire.

“Look, we’re about half a mile from the helicarrier. Do you want me to go on ahead and get help?”

“I can make it.”

Natasha stepped in front of him. “Clint, I’m thinking about this for your own good.”

“Tasha, I can make it.” Stubbornness was another trait he and Natasha shared. They were both so damned bullheaded stubborn. Clint might have won the argument if it wasn’t for a coughing fit that chose to show up that moment. Blood peppered his skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he started to say as Natasha pushed a button on her wrist.

“Requesting transport from current location,” she said. “Hawkeye’s injured.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Course I did,” she said, lightly nudging his shoulder. “God knows I wasn’t going to carry your weak butt back.”

A few minutes later, a Jeep was in view. “Agent Romanoff, how you doin’?” the driver said with a smile. “You’re looking a little rough, Barton.”

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” greeted Clint as he slid into the passenger seat. “Didn’t expect to see you around here.”

“I’m with Steve,” the Falcon explained. “We had a tip that Bucky might be around here.”

Natasha looked up from settling in with the luggage. “And?”

“Trail was dead,” said Sam, pulling the vehicle back onto the road. “We’d just met up with Maria and Tony when we heard about what happened.”

“It’s like a little Avengers reunion,” Clint said, wincing as they drove over a bump. “Is Banner hiding out in South America again?”

Sam laughed. “Not that I’m aware. I’m just glad to see the two of you again.” He went quiet. “Really glad to see you guys again.”

They drove up to what looked like an empty field. Clint knew better. Within seconds, the helicarrier took down it’s reflecting shields. Sam drove the Jeep up the platform, and Clint saw that they had a small greeting party of people he couldn’t remember the names of. Steve Rogers stood out among them, an empty wheelchair by his side.

“Oh no,” Clint murmured.

“Oh yes,” said Natasha. “You look like death.”

“Clint,” Steve said with a smile as he opened the door, “it’s really nice to see you guys.”

“Same,” Clint answered, carefully exiting the Jeep. He gasped, which in turn sent him into a coughing fit. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, stepping away from the wheelchair. A doctor pushed it towards him. “Really?”

“Agent Barton, my name is Dr. Streiten,” the doctor said. “I know you’re used to injuries, some much worse than what you’ve been dealt today, but let’s try to make things easy today.”

Clint looked at Sam, Steve, and Natasha and guessed that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of it. “Sure, Doc, let’s get to work.”

***

After being poked, prodded, and x-rayed, Clint and Natasha were both put on bed rest for the rest of their flight back to New York. Natasha’s injuries were light compared to his own. While she was bruised and swollen, the worst injury was the gash on her cheek that was currently being stitched up. Clint’s own injuries were much more damaging. Four broken bones in his left hand, three broken ribs, and a split lip.

The doctor cleared his throat. “The fingers in your left hand are broken-”

“So that’s why they were sticking out of my hand.”

“Clint,” Natasha warned. “Go ahead, Dr. Streiten.”

“So we’re going to need you to be careful while they are healing,” Streiten continued. “Everything, will heal in time, no worries, but you will have to keep out of trouble.”

“Good luck getting him to listen to that advice, Doctor,” said Maria Hill as she walked into the room. Her face was grim. “It was a set up.”

“What?” Clint asked.

“Agent 41 turned on us,” she explained, sitting down on the edge of Natasha’s bed. “He was working for HYDRA, but apparently chose to go solo. He faked his death, and took the name of a deceased HYDRA agent, the name we saw on the transmissions. He had our information and decided to sell it to the highest bidder.”

“Had?” asked Natasha.

Hill looked at the floor. “This is a little embarrassing, but we sent the two of you in as a back-up plan.”

“We were your second choice,” Natasha said bitterly.

Hill’s eyes betrayed her steely face. “It was just in case Stark didn’t reach him first.”

Clint felt his temper flare up, a familiar twinge of fear knotting in his stomach. “That is the dumbest decision, no offense to Stark, but we could have died!”

“Agent Barton,” Dr. Streiten said in a firm voice, “Remember what I said about your healing process.”

Clint forced a laugh. “Right, calm.”

Natasha was looking at Maria intently, a serious look in her eyes. “There are still HYDRA moles on our side, aren’t there?”

Hill exhaled. “It appears to be so, yes. I had suspected it, which is why we didn’t tell anyone about sending in Iron Man.”

The knot in his stomach twisted. Clint’s eyes darted up. “We weren’t just a back-up plan, we were bait.”

“No, you weren’t bait-”

“Jesus Christ, are we even worth anything to you guys? Did you and Stark just decide one day that we were expendable or something to you?”

Maria stood up. “You two each have very unique skills that are irreplaceable to the team. That being said, we’ll be taking the two of you out of the field until you’ve both recovered. Follow the doctor’s orders.” As the doors opened, she turned. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know it was going to be this bad. I’m so sorry we put you in danger like that.”

Clint punched his mattress, earning a disapproving clicking sound from the doctor. Natasha waited until the doctors left before speaking. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Clint lied, gritting his teeth.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Leave it, Natasha.”

“Clint, you can tell me-”

“I said leave it!” Clint’s breathing was heavy, causing the reactionary cough. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, Tasha. I’ll be fine.”

As he let the drugs try to calm into an induced sleep, Clint thought about his lie. She probably knew why he was upset; she could read him like her favorite novel. They had no control over the outcome. They were puppets. The last time Clint acted as a puppet, people died. He wouldn’t go through that again.


	2. The Bobbi Blues

Clint lived in an apartment in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn. It wasn’t just that he owned his apartment; he owned the entire building. The Russian gang who had formerly owned the building was no longer intimidating the residents with as much force as they had been. Instead, they had taken to smaller crime in adjacent neighborhoods. Still, every few weeks they’d be back, shouting at tenants in broken English, making threatening gestures in their tracksuits.

Clint had left the helicarrier without telling anyone when they landed in New York. While he had slept through the return flight, he was still angry at his friends’ betrayal and did not want to spend another minute in something that Tony Stark had built. Still not feeling completely well enough to walk, he wheeled himself off the ramp when no one else was looking. If anyone saw him leave, they would have found him by now. You can only go so fast in a wheelchair.

The apartment building was currently Tracksuit Mafia-free, a sign that was always promising. Some of his tenants’ children were playing on the sidewalk. “You okay, Hawkeye?” asked one of the kids (he was very positive it was one of Simone’s kids).

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sometimes you get hurt, ya know?”

Mini Simone nodded. “Hope you get better!”

“Thanks, me too.”

After some brief swearing at the elevator for taking too long (he’d have to look into getting some professional advice on whether or not to replace it), Clint made it back to his apartment without any real struggle. He unlocked the door and rolled into the living room. 

Clint’s apartment was not the most pristine of dwellings, but it was his own, and he did his best to make it look presentable. It was a mix of old and new. Near the television (new), a DVD player could be seen next to a VCR and a LaserDisc player (definitely old). Clint’s stereo was hooked up to a CD player and turntable. Off of the living room was the kitchen, complete with the operational landline. His kitchen table was an antique he found at an estate sale. The bathroom and bedroom were fairly simple: nothing fancy, just the necessities. Arrows were kept mostly in their quiver, though a few could be found lying around the apartment. It wasn’t a lot, but it was his, and that’s what mattered.

Clint rolled to the couch in the living room and carefully moved to it from the wheelchair. The doctor had given him a lot of pain medication, and he felt numb enough in his chest to not be in too much misery. Still, sleep sounded like a good idea. As he began to shut his eyes, sleep sounded like it was a very, very good idea, and it quietly beckoned him.

“You left the helicarrier without clearance,” a disapproving voice said from the across the room. Clint almost jumped from his seat. Goodbye, sleep.

He turned around to see Bobbi Morse looking back at him with a faint smile on her lips, though her eyes were serious. The ex-wife. They married young, and despite the ups and downs that come with marriage, Clint thought they were great together. Five years into the marriage, Bobbi died, and it took him a long time to come to terms with her death. Only then she wasn’t dead after all; she had been kidnapped by Kree. They tried to rekindle the relationship, but both had found they were different people. They went their separate ways, but the fondness was still there.

Only now that they were divorced, Bobbi was allowed to be more critical of his decisions.

“I felt better,” Clint shrugged.

“You felt better,” Bobbi repeated. Reason number one why her hero name was Mockingbird. “Clint, you broke your hand and some ribs, and you punctured a lung. Romanoff, Hill, and anyone else on board that aircraft are pissed.”

“I’ve had worse. Remember that time when I was brainwashed by an Asgardian and had no control over my actions? Yeah that was fun.”

“Clint, I’m not condoning what happened. I’m just making sure that you will be alright.”

“I don’t remember giving you a key to this apartment.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I don’t think locked doors apply to me.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m putting you under bed rest.”

“What, are you gonna make me?”

“Sort of. As much as I hate to put two Hawkeyes out of the field, I’m assigning Kate to keep an eye on you.”

Clint tried not to smile. Kate would be fun to have around. “Are you really sure you know what you’re doing there?”

“I like to think so. I’ll stick around until she arrives.”

“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” Clint said thoughtfully. “Not since SHIELD went down.”

“Oh well, I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with…” Clint prompted.

“Undercover work. I infiltrated HYDRA for a period.”

“And how was that?”

“Not bad. Gathered some intel, went brunette to help with my cover.”

Clint mocked disgust. “I don’t know, dear. Best stick with the blonde.”

“Ha ha ha,” answered Bobbi in a deadpan tone. She cleared space on the kitchen counter and hopped up onto it. “Anyways, now I’m mostly doing mission work with ex number 2.”

Lance Hunter. The man who ended up in a very short marriage to Bobbi. It wasn’t long after Clint and Bobbi’s divorce that she met the member of the Special Air Service. They quickly got married, but it fell apart just as quickly. Clint supposed it was because both had tempers as hot as chile peppers. Still, it sounded like things might be going okay if they were working together. “And how is he?”

Bobbi shrugged. “An official agent of SHIELD now.”

“Who are you working for?”

“I’m not at liberty to say right now.”

“Who is it? Fury? Because I know he’s alive.”

Bobbi’s eyes grew wide. “Fury’s alive?”

_ Shit _ . “That… was a test.”

“I really can’t say who I’m working under. If it’s to be made public, then it will be made public. Just not today.”

“So I’m guessing you won’t be in New York much.”

She shook her head. “I’m leaving once Kate gets here.”

Clint opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he heard the door opening. In sprang Lucky, Clint’s one eyed dog he’d rescued from the Russians. Despite protests, Lucky covered his master in kisses. Kate Bishop followed him in and shut the door. “Well, well, well, look who’s home early.”

“Hey, Kate,” Clint greeted.

Bobbi pushed herself off of the counter, her golden blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Alright, it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or dangerous to himself. He’s to stay in bed. Nothing extra. No matter how many times he gives you puppy eyes, he stays in his bed or on the couch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Kate with a mock salute.

“Clint, you take care of yourself,” Bobbi said before kissing the top of his head. 

“I will, I will,” Clint answered, squeezing his ex’s hand lightly.

“Good.” She scratched Lucky behind the ears, said goodbye to Kate, and left the apartment.

No sooner did Bobbi leave that Kate’s arms were wrapped around his waist in a bear hug. Once again the air was knocked out of him. “Kate,” he coughed, “Not now.”

She released him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t even think.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” he said as he propped himself up.

“What happened?”

“Long story short, our cover was blown.” Clint then relayed the events of the day to his friend. By the end of it, Kate was fuming.

“I don’t know why we can’t all just be open with each other since we’re trying to save the world and all that jazz.”

“Fury once called it ‘compartmentalizing’. In case somebody ever got caught, they wouldn’t be able to spill every secret SHIELD had, or in this case, the Avengers.”

“Still, they should have told you.”

Lucky whined in agreement. Clint pet the lab softly. “Thanks for taking care of Lucky over the past couple days, Kate.”

“Well, he is practically my dog.”

“Is not.”

“I feed him half of the time.”

“Well I adopted him into our little family.”

Kate stuck out her tongue. “So it’s just the two of us for the next few weeks?”

“Until I heal and/or when Bobbi tells me I’m off of bed rest, yep.”

“So, since I’ll be living here… I suppose I get to call the shots on what we eat.”

“Watch it,” Clint said in a faux-serious voice.

Kate smiled. “Pizza?”

“You know it.”

Maybe bed rest wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	3. Hawkeye Too

The weather was a bit too hot for Kate Bishop’s liking.

Outside the apartment window, the thermometer was showing a temperature of 80 degrees, making it 15 degrees warmer than she wanted it to be. “Act like September already,” she murmured.

“Ever think that the Human Torch is just hanging around, making it hot?” Clint asked as he poured water into the coffee pot.

“Morning, sunshine,” Kate greeted, moving from the window to the kitchen. “And yes, sometimes I do. We’re going to need to talk to Johnny about that.”

“Weather’s supposed to cool off next week.” He added grinds to the machine. “Then we’ll be in fall weather for all of October before it begins to freeze in November. New York’s a great place to be during this season.”

Kate looked at the other Hawkeye. He was bruised and swollen, and really shouldn’t have left his bed. Yet whatever Bobbi had said, Kate knew that Clint would feel imprisoned if he had to stay completely stationary. “You know, you could join the rest of the 21st century and buy a Keurig. It’s a lot quicker.”

“Yeah but what’s the fun in that?”

Kate gave him a half smile. “When the coffee’s done, back to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have a cocktail of pills to take, so I’m not even sure you should be drinking coffee, but I’ll let it get by just once.”

“Mommmmm,” Clint mocked.

“You look like you went through a shredder.” And he did. Parts of his exposed arms were black and blue, grazed with small cuts. His split lip was stitched back together, but it had swollen up some during the night. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew his chest was bound with a cast.

“Maybe I did,” Clint joked. “You don’t know, you weren’t there.”

There was a long buzzing sound coming from the door. “I’ll get it,” she said, standing up. “Stay there and we’ll watch Blade Runner or something else that you have on LaserDisc.”

“It’ll have to be one of the DVDs,” Clint called after her. “I don’t have the LaserDisc set up in my room.”

Kate looked through the peephole… Only to find Tony Stark awkwardly standing in the hallway. She opened the door part way and frowned.

“Hi Kate,” he said, offering a wrapped gift.

Kate felt her eyebrows furrow. “I’m not so sure you should be here right now,” she warned. “I don’t think Clint wants to see you.”

Tony nodded slightly. “I get that. I just came here to apologize. Can I come in?”

“Kate?” called Clint. “Who’s there?”

“Hang on!” Kate answered. She opened the door and halfheartedly gestured the billionaire inside. “This is on you,” she said, crossing her arms.

She followed Tony into Clint’s room and saw the latter man’s eyes narrow into slits. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Stark.”

“Clint. I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you and Natasha into unnecessary danger. If we’d known, things would have been different.”

Kate suddenly felt incredibly awkward being a part of the conversation happening before her. “You know what? I think I’m just, um, I’m going to take Lucky for a walk. When I get back, I want you both to still be alive.”

She found Lucky’s leash, notched it onto his collar, and walked out the door. Kate sometimes considered herself to be an accidental Avenger. It all happened suddenly and unexpectedly. Most of her life was spent in California. Her parents were very wealthy, and her life felt charmed. At least it was until her mother died of cancer when she was ten years old. Her father was never able to really cope with the loss of his wife, and soon his time was spent dating women much younger than himself instead of being with his daughter. Kate began to take her anger and suffering out with the help of archery and self defense classes. She competed in archery competitions when she entered high school, and was soon setting school records.

Kate had been visiting New York City shortly after the Chituari attacks as part of a relief effort. One night while walking through Central Park she was attacked by two masked assailants. She had screamed, and found Captain America and Hawkeye rushing to her aid. The rest was Avengers history (totally a thing). When one of the thieves knocked Clint to the ground, she grabbed an arrow and his bow and pierced the man’s shoulder as he ran away. The two Avengers were impressed, and (after making sure she was alright), Clint asked her if she wanted to tag along. They had been going through the park, collecting Chituari artifacts if they hadn’t been found by other agents yet. Kate didn’t remember having that much fun since her mother had been alive. While it started as a violent night, it ended on a happy note. 

Kate moved to New York City immediately after their meeting. She had spent the past two years honing in on her talents, becoming an archer equal to Clint. While the majority of the Avengers were in their 30s and 40s, Kate found a friend in Peter Parker and a mentor in Clint. The mentor/student relationship blossomed into true friendship throughout their time together. Clint was her best friend. She could relax with him and truly be herself.

While Kate hailed from California, she really did love fall weather, or at least the beginning of the fall season. The colors in Central Park were vibrant despite the temperature being uncharacteristically warm. After waiting for roughly thirty minutes, Kate and Lucky began to walk home. If she was fortunate, the two men would have at least cooled down. Or Clint ended up in worse shape than he began in. She gave both options a 50/50 chance.

Kate let Lucky run up the stairs on his own. The tenants never seemed to mind him, and there was no reason; this dog was one of the sweetest she’d ever come across. Lucky had a playful attitude, and he was extremely loyal to her and Clint.

“Hey, we’re back,” Kate greeted, opening the door for herself and Lucky. When she heard no answer, she cautiously walked into the hallway by Clint’s bedroom.

“Ah, fuck it, man,” she heard Clint say.

“No, no no no no, no, screw- no!” said the Iron Man.

So maybe things weren’t going too great after all.

“Guys?” She walked into Clint’s room to find…

Both men with video game controllers in hand, angrily killing zombies that attacked their characters on the screen. Kate sighed.

“Oh hey, Katie,” said Clint, nodding a greeting.

“Wanna join?” asked Tony. “I ordered a pizza.”

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Eh,” Tony shrugged, “never too early.”

“So everything’s okay?” she asked as she sat on the edge of Clint’s bed.

“He apologized,” Clint said.

“You’re both weird if you’re going to let it go that easily,” Kate said, pulling her long dark hair into a pony tail. She smirked. Here she was, in her mid 20s, hanging out with two of the coolest people in the galaxy. Life was crazy, but she loved it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I know I promised Kate, but she shows up in the next chapter. Also, I took several years of French, so I had to use Google Spanish.


End file.
